21 of 25 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
The reader's challenge? Finish the book without howling, March 31, 2004
This review is from: Howling at the Moon: The Odyssey of a Monstrous Music Mogul in an Age of Excess (Hardcover)
"There is the scum of the earth, and what lives under the scum of the earth, and under this we have music lawyers," fictional touring musician Vernon Shakely often remarked in Laurie Colwin's novel, "Goodbye Without Leaving."
Walter Yetnikoff might have been perversely proud to be included in the fictitious Shakely's asssessment of music industry lawyers. Unfortunately, his attempt to present himself as a formerly nice Jewish boy/Columbia Law grad turned baaaaaad example of Seventies excess keeps falling flat, despite the potential richness of material. Given that his co-author is the gifted David Ritz, whose other biography subjects include Marvin Gaye, B.B. King, and Aretha Franklin, one can only imagine how incoherent Yetnikoff's prose was before Ritz attempted to take it in hand. It appears that at some point, Ritz must have given up in despair.
The book begins with a detailed sexual fantasy about Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis ("Jack was a powerful lover, Ari was a passionate man, but you, Walter... you're nothing short of astounding," she cooes), followed by a suspiciously well-organized three-page "recollection" of a business luncheon Yetnikoff holds, just the two of them, at "21" with Mrs. Onassis. There she recaps his entire career in highly flattering terms, and urges him to write a "highbrow" memoir.
Well, poor Mrs. Onassis is dead and can't defend herself. But putting those words--if indeed she said them--into her mouth demonstrates the size of Yetnikoff's ego, which overwhelms what could have been a fascinating book. It is sort of fascinating, but for all the wrong reasons.
Yetnikoff was certainly in a position to drop names, and some of the anecdotes keep this book from being a total waste of time and energy, though the best bits already have been skimmed off by newspapers and magazines. He details, clearly and convincingly, Michael Jackson's manipulativeness, as well as his arrested development. Just prior to introducing Jackson to a black-tie party after his album "Thriller" sold 25 million copies, for example, Jackson whispered in Yetnikoff's ear, "I have to tinkle. Can you take me to the potty?"
There's also an engaging tale of a dinner with Bob Dylan and his mother, at which Mrs. Zimmerman urges "Bobby" to eat more, and asks, "And have you thanked Mr. Yetnikoff for this lovely dinner?"
However, more often Yetnikoff's tales of his business life with CBS/Columbia Records are disorganized, retaliatory, and peevish. He has a fatal weakness for rude nicknames: the Japanese executives at Sony, who acquired Yetnikoff's unit, are referred to repeatedly as "Happy Japs." In addition, he makes numerous homophobic remarks about legendary music executives who are--natch--much more famous than Yetnikoff.
Yetnikoff spends nearly as much time talking about women as dropping stars' names and talking business, the difference being that women comprise only the succinct, gutter-mouthed sum total of their physical attributes. His long-suffering first wife, June, ends up consoling Walter for his business reverses as she lay dying of cancer ("You'll be okay, Walter, I know you've got a lot on your mind but you'll be okay").
When he remarries, his second wife ("a pretty shiksa with big t*ts") gets less attention than Yetnikoff's snappy patter or the guest list--"Barbra attended. So did People magazine. So did Bruce Springsteen, Christie Brinkley, Mick Jagger, James Taylor"... as well as some industry cronies, one of whom "was mad that his table was too far in the back."
In short, Yetnikoff's sex life gets four lines and 31 references (some of which spread over two pages) in the index. His two sons merit three brief remarks and a tiny photo each.
The self-proclaimed "monstrous" excesses of his alcohol and drug use (23 references) come off as pretty dull in Yetnikoff's sweaty hands. When he offers cocaine to an Anglican vicar ("Wanna bump?"), what makes the anecdote is not the cocaine or the vicar, but the fact that this incident took place at James Taylor's wedding to Kathryn Walker at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in Manhattan. I mean, he doesn't just get loaded, he gets loaded with NAMES, in snazzy locations, in an effort to show us how far he's come from his unhappy multifamily house in Brooklyn. The text doesn't improve when he discusses the harrowing process of recovery (22 mentions). He says he's been clean and sober since 1989, noting, "Sobriety has saved, or at least extended, my life. On some levels, I became a better person; on many levels, I became worse." By this point, near the end of the book, the weary reader can accept this point on faith.
On the subject of faith, rarely have I seen so many references to Jewishness by someone who doesn't appear to have touched a Torah since his bar mitzvah, which he poormouths as "a bust, a strictly low-rent affair." He refers to himself interchangeably as Walter and as Velvel, his Yiddish name, and at the end, when he Finds God, he refers to Him repeatedly as "Heshie." Isn't that just adorable? It made this Jewish reader wince.
"Howling at the Moon" ultimately leaves the reader unconvinced that Walter Yetnikoff has made any kind of journey except the inevitable aging process, and his move from New York to California. Rather than being a lovably louche bad boy, he's just bad. And he commits the raconteur's worst sin: He may have a few moments to share, but overall, he's boring.
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10 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Better than I thought it would be. Complete success., March 9, 2004
This review is from: Howling at the Moon: The Odyssey of a Monstrous Music Mogul in an Age of Excess (Hardcover)
This could have been a tired collection of name-dropping and anecdotes, but it is not - Yetnikoff offers a gripping tale of driving in ultra-fast lane with no brakes.
Many books of this type are reduced to sorry self-important ramblings because their esteemed authors take themselves too seriously and view "stories of their lives" as something approaching gospels. They want every word in their folios to be significant. Some of them are under impression that they did not simply live their lives but went from one revelation of supreme truth to another. Yetnikoff, meanwhile, is endearingly immune to all this. His story of excess and permanent alcohol-, drug- and sex-induced stupor is told in a relaxed and unassuming way.
And, of course, famous names and their albums and songs really put this into the context of the era. I enjoyed every bit of the book.
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10 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
An Incredible, Cautionary & Ultimately Inspirational Story, March 6, 2004
This review is from: Howling at the Moon: The Odyssey of a Monstrous Music Mogul in an Age of Excess (Hardcover)
My all-time favorite music business story involves a conversation between Walter Yetnikoff and David Geffen. It is a story that is both hysterically funny and, in its own way, appalling. I had considered it to be apocryphal but there it is, confirmed not once but twice, in HOWLING AT THE MOON, Walter Yetnikoff's autobiography.
Yetnikoff joined CBS Records Group as legal counsel in 1961 when its primary label imprints were Columbia and Epic. If you rummage through your record collection you undoubtedly have discs bearing Columbia's red label (Johnny Mathis, Mitch Miller, The Byrds, Simon and Garfunkel, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan) and Epic's yellow one (The Dave Clark Five, The Yardbirds). He was by 1975 President of the CBS Record Group, having transformed it into one of the most successful record labels in music history. The deal Yetnikoff brokered between CBS Records and a Japanese company named Sony continues to influence the music industry for good and for ill to this very day. It also, in part, contributed to Yetnikoff's downfall. HOWLING AT THE MOON is the story of Yetnikoff's meteoric rise and fall, and personal resurrection. It doesn't matter if you have never cared a whit about how records are made or rarely get to the shelves of your favorite retailer --- this book is an absolute joy to read on every conceivable level.
Yetnikoff brought about the success of CBS Records with a combination of brilliance and belligerence, uniting vision and business sense with a single-minded, obsessive pursuit of success. HOWLING AT THE MOON traces Yetnikoff's life, from his humble beginnings --- his family was what would now be called "working poor" --- to his ultimate, dazzling success. During the course of his first legal employment at a traditional law firm, he met a Harvard Law School graduate named Clive Davis, who chafed at the limitations that the firm imposed on him. Davis soon moved to Columbia Records and recruited Yetnikoff shortly thereafter. Yetnikoff found himself to be in his element at Columbia. Though it took him a while to find his sea legs, he soon became self-assured. An anecdotal meeting between Morris Levy (the real-life model for record mogul Herman "Hesh" Rabkin on The Sopranos) and Yetnikoff, wherein he diplomatically attempts to collect a debt on Columbia's behalf, demonstrates Yetnikoff's ability to engage in repartee, a talent that he honed to devastating, razor-like sharpness.
Yetnikoff's success and excess rose in direct proportion. It is ironic that as his addictions increased --- and he could count coup on virtually every addiction known --- so too did Columbia's fortunes. HOWLING AT THE MOON is loaded with stories involving people you know of. Michael Jackson's descent into weirdness is chronicled here; while recent allegations regarding Jackson are not spoken of, Yetnikoff chronicles Jackson's metamorphosis from a good looking kid to a bizarre freak with a mixture of gentle abhorrence and genuine sympathy. James Taylor comes off surprisingly well, while Paul Simon, unsurprisingly, is presented as a self-absorbed prig. A story concerning a dinner encounter with Bob Dylan is hilarious, as Yetnikoff unerringly punctures Dylan's self-evident hypocrisy with some good-natured ribbing. While Yetnikoff's life is more or less presented in chronological order (the initial chapter begins the tale in media res, while the second chapter actually begins, as they say, at the beginning) you can pick up the book at any point and be instantly mesmerized and entertained.
It is accordingly fascinating, when consideration is given to the forgoing, that the most compelling portion of this book deals with Yetnikoff's fall from grace at Columbia, followed by his true and total embracing of recovery; through recovery, Yetnikoff found redemption. It is all the more stirring for being entirely unexpected, as we witness The Beast, The Wildman, transformed. And that is why HOWLING AT THE MOON is ultimately, more than anything else, an inspirational story. The conclusion brought tears to my eyes. Don't tell anyone, though.
HOWLING AT THE MOON is one for the "must read" list. Yetnikoff's story is incredible and cautionary. No matter who you are or what you do, you can come away from this tale entertained throughout, appalled in spots but ultimately inspired. Highest possible recommendation.
--- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub
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